


Greater Than Gold

by yehetmeup



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 03:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16925775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yehetmeup/pseuds/yehetmeup
Summary: Everyone has heard the rumors of the mythical Temple of Isis in Baharia, Egypt, but no one’s ever been brave or insane enough to cross the desert expanse to confirm its existence.Anyone who attempts the journey has disappeared without a trace. Locals whisper of a curse and refuse to go within miles of its supposed location.Kim Jongdae, renowned and daring explorer, plans to be the first to find and explore the temple. The only problem: he needs a permit. And the only person who can give him that permit, is you.





	Greater Than Gold

As he stares up at the narrow four-story building the man raises his hand, squinting against the blinding afternoon sunlight. Downtown Cairo on a Friday is packed to bursting this time of day, but the aging Protected Lands Bureau building sits far from the busy city center.

It’s a building you would only find if you were specifically looking for it, and Kim Jongdae, hotshot explorer, is very much looking for it.

‘Here goes nothing,’ he says under his breath, steeling himself and walking through the heavy doors.

He nods hello to the guard at the front desk, but the older man is so engrossed in whatever he’s watching on the tiny television next to him he doesn’t even look up. Jongdae chuckles to himself and heads for the elevator. 

Bending down to read the faded writing, he pushes the button for the fourth floor. قسم التصاريح the label reads.

‘Permits Department,’ he says to himself with a rueful laugh.

He blows out a breath, attempting ease. A minute later the ancient elevator finally releases him into a long room with high ceilings. The wall to his left is lined with old maps of every kind; topography, road systems, native population protected lands. He absently walks, curiosity getting the better of him.

He leans closer to the third map down the wall, which shows the the locations of discovered temples, tombs, and other noted historical sites.

Several of the dots seem brand new, while others are so faded they must be decades old. With a faint smile he reaches out a finger to a brightly colored yellow dot in Saqqara, representing a tomb he himself had discovered with his team a year earlier.

He straightens up, sticking his hands in the pockets of his linen pants. The rest of the room is filled with filing cabinets and bookcases. What it seems to be missing, however, is anyone to help him. Stepping further into the room he leans around a tall bookcase and finally spots a partially open office door.

Upon seeing the lone occupant his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Of all the people he would have expected to work here, you are definitely not one of them. The person he’d spoken with over the phone, by email, and by mail was an older taciturn man by the name of Asim Maroun.

You, however, are far too young and pretty, as well as far too female, to be Asim Maroun.

He watches you work for a moment, leaning silently against the door jam. He savors the unexpected surprise, taking in the way the light from the small window catches on your hair, a pencil stuck through it to make a knot. There’s a slight pout on your lips as you pour over a large register spread out on the desk.

Reluctantly, he reaches out a hand and knocks on the door of the door frame, clearing his throat to announce himself.

Startled by a loud rapping sound on the door, you turn, bringing your hand to your chest.

The man standing there is handsome, even more so in the aging, dusty office. His eyes are far too bright and intent for such an old space.

‘Can I help you?’ you ask in English, finding your voice.

‘Ah, thank goodness you speak English. I’m oceans better at reading Arabic than speaking it. Yes, I’m here to inquire about a permit,’ he starts happily, motioning to the chair across from you to ask if he can sit down. ‘My name is Kim Jongdae.’

You nod and he moves across from you, reaching out a hand to shake yours as you introduce yourself. Though the contact is brief his rough palm against yours sends a thrill of heat down your spine. A moment later he releases your hand and leans back against the seat, throwing a relaxed arm across the back.

He’s clearly someone used to getting his way, you think, and instinctively sit up straighter in your chair in response and cross your arms.

‘Well, you’ve definitely come to the right place for that,’ you say with a wry smile. ‘But most people these days request permits by email or mail. Coming all the way to Cairo in person is highly unusual.’

He looks down with a sigh, the tips of his ears turning red. ‘I’ve had a bit of trouble with receiving the permit, so I figured it would be easiest to just come down here myself,’ he says, looking back up with a warm smile.

‘Let me check my files,’ you say, standing up and turning to the file cabinet behind you.

The corners of his mouth tip up when he smiles, you notice, almost like a cat. You’re grateful for the distraction from that dangerous smile.

Something finally clicks in your mind as you flip through folders. ‘Wait a minute, say your name again,’ you demand, turning to face him, raising an eyebrow.

He has the decency to look chastised. ‘It’s Kim Jongdae. And yes, you probably recognize it. I’ve spoken with… your boss? I’m assuming. On numerous occasions. Doctor Asim Maroun?’

You snap your fingers. ‘Yes! That’s why I know the name, you’re relentless, aren’t you?’ you laugh. ‘You’ve been trying to get a permit to the protected lands in Baharia. Searching for the Temple of Isis, right?’

He stands, an excitement coming to his eyes. ‘Yes, exactly. Your boss rejected my request multiple times. He said I was a rogue and a damn treasure hunter,’ he says in heavily-accented Arabic, in a startlingly accurate imitation of your boss. You lift your hand to cover a laugh.

‘Asim is out on leave, he umm…’ you start, looking around at the cramped, dusty room. ‘He… tripped over a stack of maps and injured his hip last week. I’m filling in as Head Permit Officer until he returns.’

Jongdae doesn’t laugh, instead he looks genuinely concerned, and you like him better for it. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that, I hope he’s doing all right?’

‘He should be. A few weeks of bed rest and it sounds like he’ll be good as new,’ you say absently, finally finding the folder with his name on it.

You both return to your seats and you open his file, pulling out the map and his written request. He jostles his leg impatiently while you read. Looking up you give him a disapproving frown and he apologizes with a laugh and stops. His excitement is palpable in the small office, his desire for this permit feels like a tangible thing in the room with you.

Finished, you sit back up. ‘I have to say Mr. Kim, this does look like a well thought out plan. But unfortunately I have to agree with my boss. I can’t give you a permit for these lands. There have been numerous … accidents on previous explorations to the region, and the government has deemed it too dangerous,’ you say evenly and his face falls. ‘I’m sorry you took the trouble of coming here.’

He reaches across the table and rests his hand atop yours. ‘Please, miss. I have to find this temple,’ he implores, his eyebrows pulling together in an adorable manner.

You almost cave, but this position is crucial fieldwork for your PhD. If your boss finds out that you approved something he so clearly rejected, you’d be in deep water. No matter how handsome and impassioned this man is, you can’t risk it. Besides, it’s for his own safety, you reassure yourself.

‘I-’ you start, distracted by the casual way his hand rests against yours. ‘I’m sorry, but the decision is final.’

With a sigh he pulls his hand back, gathering himself. He seems to deflate at this final rejection. You look down at the clock and see that it’s now past five and time to leave for the day. Quietly you close down your computer and pick up your purse.

‘The office is closed for the day now, but I’m happy to walk you back down to the lobby,’ you say sympathetically.

He meets your reassuring smile and nods, the corner of his mouth tipping up briefly. You both stand and motion for him to go ahead of you. After closing and locking the office door the two of you walk in silence to the elevator. Once inside he hits the button for the first floor and positions himself opposite you.

You open your mouth to ask him something, anything, to break the tense air. But he acts first. Abruptly he reaches out and pushes the emergency stop button. The elevator jolts and you tilt forward, bracing yourself against his shoulder to avoid falling.

‘What are you doing?’ you demand, moving forward to look him in the face.

If he were anyone else you’d be worried about being alone in an enclosed space. But for some reason, he doesn’t give you any concern. Much more alarming is how aware of him you are, standing so close.

A curl of blonde hair falls into his bright, expressive eyes as he steps closer to you. A dusting of freckles across his nose is noticeable now; most likely due to a large amount of time spent outside on similar adventures to the one he’s proposing.

‘Is there any chance you’ll reconsider?’ he asks hopefully.

You watch the rise and fall of his chest, his breathing sped up by his obvious desperation. The white cotton stretches and relaxes, pulled taut across his chest. The muscles of his arms, revealed by his rolled up sleeves, momentarily make you forget where you are.

‘Like what you see?’ he teases, quirking an eyebrow when you look up to him.

You huff out a noise of disapproval, taking two big steps back. Reflexively you smooth your hair behind your ear and look down to hide the way he’s flustered you.

Pursing your lips you fix him with a glare. ‘Mr. Kim, the decision is final. I’m sorry, I am sympathetic to your cause. It sounds like this supposed temple holds a lot of significance for you. But we can’t just let any treasure hunter who thinks he’s the next Indiana Jones into the oasis.’

He looks affronted. ‘I’m not a treasure hunter. I have a PhD in Archaeology and a Masters in Classical Literature. I spent the a year working on the restoration of the Djoser pyramid before I discovered the Najima tomb. I promise you, I know how to be respectful of sacred sites,’ he says in a rush, raking a frustrated hand through his hair.

The sincerity in his expression makes your resolve falter. As if he senses your reluctance slipping an inch, he steps closer, sliding a congenial arm around your shoulder.

‘What if… you joined us?’ he asks, his eyes widening at the idea.

He lifts his other hand and motions it in front of him as if he’s painting a picture in the air in front of you. ‘Just imagine it. Three weeks camping under the stars. Getting to see history up close. Visiting an ancient site that no one else has seen in centuries.’

‘But there’s supposed to be a curse on the temple, isn’t there?’ you respond without thinking.

He grins and you curse yourself for engaging in this conversation. ‘Ahh, so you do know about the temple.’

‘Everyone knows about the temple,’ you quip. ‘Even if I wasn’t getting a PhD in Ancient Egyptian History I’d know about it. Half the tourists in town have probably heard of the Pharaoh Alqamar and the temple he built for his wife Jamila, whom he believed was a reincarnation of the goddess Isis.’

‘You don’t believe the rumors about a curse, do you? A smart, logical woman like yourself?’ he asks, the cadence of his voice frustratingly seductive.

‘Well… no. Things like curses don’t exist, that’s silly. But still, there must be a reason why the local Wahati haven’t gone within ten miles of that land in centuries,’ you answer, unable to resist being pulled into speculation.

‘Don’t you think it’s time someone found out conclusively? Doesn’t it drive you crazy not knowing?’ he encourages, a gleam in his eyes. ‘One of the great unsolved mysteries of ancient Egypt.’

You open your mouth to speak but he continues, once again making a grand hand motion into the air in front of you.

‘My crew and I run a tight expedition. Just the three of us and a local guide or two, depending on the length of the expedition and the severity of the terrain. My associate Minseok has trekked across the Himalayas and probably half the Sahara at this point; anywhere we’re going, he can get us there and back safely. My good friend Baekhyun is fluent in Masri and Coptic, and is friendly enough to charm even the most reticent village leader.’

‘I promise you, everything will be above board and respectful,’ he continues. ‘The only thing we’re hoping for is to be the first to see it since historical times. We live for the joy of discovery, not even for the news or the history books, but for the pleasure of being the first. Solving ancient mysteries. We hunger for knowledge, not fame, miss. I assure you.’

He watches you carefully, scanning your face for any sign that you’re caving. His arm is still securely around your shoulders, and you can smell the combination of his sweat and cologne. Unconsciously you move closer to him, drawn in.

‘Everything all right in there?’ comes a distorted male voice in Arabic from the ancient voice panel on the elevator.

You jolt at the sound to your left. Blessedly, Jongdae removes his arm and backs up several paces to give you some room, though his eyes never leave you. With a cough you compose yourself and walk over to release the emergency stop. Lifting a finger you press the call button.

‘Yes, we’re fine!’ you say into the box, your voice much higher than normal. You chastise yourself for being so affected by his presence and take a deep breath. ‘We must have hit it by accident, I’m so sorry for the trouble Ishaq.’

The same voice continues. ‘No trouble on my part, miss, just wanted to see if I needed to call a rescue team,’ the man laughs, which turns into a hacking cough.

The speaker clicks off and you stand there in the silence. Straightening, you press the button for the first floor and the elevator resumes its descent. The air is thick as you and Jongdae wait on opposite sides of the elevator.

With a ping the elevator stops, the doors opening. Finally, you turn away from him and walk out into the lobby. You wave to Ishaq and he waves back to you warmly before narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Jongdae behind you.

Once you’re out on the steps, Jongdae speaks again. ‘Please, miss. Whatever it would take for you to say yes, I’ll do it,’ he says, sincerity radiating from his features.

You laugh in amusement, already beginning to sweat in the heat. ‘You’re going to do this either way, aren’t you?’ you ask, folding your arms. He looks up and bites his lip.

‘Maybe. But I’d prefer if it was legal and official. I’d hate to be a rogue,’ he says with a wink. ‘Makes it awfully difficult to find a guide, and much harder to get across the administrative checkpoints.’

‘Okay. Tell me, then. Why is this so important to you?’ you ask, genuinely curious. ‘If not for the fame, or the piles of treasure that are supposed to be buried there, why?’

His face softens, some memory tugging at his mind and coloring his features with nostalgia. ‘My mother told me the legends of the pharaoh and the temple growing up. She and my father were professors at the University in Alexandria. She passed away last month, and I- I don’t know, I’ve been working on the Najima tomb for over a year now,’ he says softly.

‘I always wanted to find it for her, and I’m only sad I couldn’t do it before she died. It’s time for a new adventure and this one sounds perfect.’ He looks off into the distance, to where the tip of the Giza pyramid is visible through the rooftops. 

‘I don’t want fame, aside from being properly credited for my discoveries. I have no interest in money, security. Solving mysteries is what fuels me, what can I say?’ he laughs, lifting his arms openly.

You tug on the edge of your sleeve. You can’t deny it sounds like a hell of an adventure. 

In all the years you’ve been studying ancient history, you’ve seen many historical sites. But something burns in you, listening to him speak. A desire to get off the beaten path, to really explore the country. To perhaps experience history; to taste it, touch it, live it, rather than just reading about it.

‘I’m not saying yes,’ you start and he visibly brightens. ‘But I’ll hear you out.’

He claps his hands together excitedly. ‘Excellent! You won’t regret it. Would you meet my crew tonight? Drinks at La Terre Lointaine, seven pm?’

‘I hope I’m not going to regret this,’ you sigh. ‘But yes, I’ll meet you.’

‘Trust me,’ he replies with a grin, sticking his hands into his pockets and backing down the steps. ‘You won’t.’

With a wink he turns, striding off down the street.


End file.
